Velvet Colored Mirrors
by Shiroi Iyasu
Summary: 'The cost of understanding was his absolute silence.' Giftfic for Shikigami's Tales of Persona.


Oh... my god. I actually finished this Goddess-damned giftfic! Gosh, I knew I could procrastinate, but to this length? Man...

Anyways, enjoy it, especially you, Shiki. Though, it might have numerous amounts of missed errors or mere OOC-ness, because I pushed myself to write it even though my creativity wasn't actually co-opperating with me. I honestly think this isn't my best of fics as of late...

Now, excuse me while I go and stare at a pretty butterfly thing to regain my wonderfully-dwindling imagination.

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><p><em>"Mirrors are said to be a gateway to another world, a special ornament, a mere item or simply something special. To me, they are hidden reflections, locking away our truer self." ~ Unknown.<em>

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><p>Orpheus walked through Doplund's kingdom-like roads, whitish-grey cobblestones sitting in gravel paths while empty black and purest white street lamps sat here and there, currently off for the daytime. It felt odd not to have the Yaoon Descender trailing him anymore, but he supposed it would be a good idea to take in a day without the flying... pet, animal, furry thing by his side. <em>I just hope Philia will take care of him properly. She's well like Raine, save for being more gentle and less of a motherly figure. A discoverer and a lover of experimentation.<em>

He grimaced at the idea of experiments. _No, no. Mormo will be fine._

Shaking his head, he walked up the orange-tiled stairs of the Plaza. His scarlet eyes scanned the area, finding Leon on a bench, cleaning his sword. A soft nudge from the Tower Personae quickly caught his attention, all urging him to spend a moment with the Magic Swordsman.

Well, there's nothing wrong with holding a conversation with him. Why not? Walking over to him, the black-haired man looked up at once in his direction, as if realising someone was approaching. Truthfully, it was like someone_ told_ him that he was coming. His amethyst eyes settled on him cautiously, though with hints of awkwardness.

"What is it?" Leon asked dryly.

"Is it wrong to have a friendly talk?" Orpheus countered with a flat look. Once again, the swordsman was pushing him away. He did it too many times - to everyone he ever meets, though he notably becomes a bit talkitve to Rutee and rather rarely, Stahn, though the two could never seem to grasp that fact - that it was perfectly normal to have a one-sided conversation end in less than five minutes with Leon Magnus. Trying to pursue the impossible was rather futile with him, but the scarlet-eyed male knew instances where the impossible became reality. Many instances. And having a long conversation was certainly less... dangerous than those moments.

"No, but I'm quite busy." As if to emphasize that statement, his hands began to clean the weakly-tinted yellow orb on his sword with a half-smudged cloth, moving in delicate stokes. The musician simply sighed in response. "I see."

"If you do, then I suggest leaving," Leon followed, not even looking up to see if the ruby-eyed musician would leave or not. Orpheus raised an eyebrow at the irritated response, but stayed silent and shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly in a casual manner - it was clearly reminiscent of his other half, but the Persona-turned-human currently did not realise that yet. His ruby orbs moved off from the swordsman, sitting on his intricate sword instead. Honestly, he found it more of a decoration than a weapon, yet it proved time and time again that it was made for the battlefield, even providing magic if the small, yellow shines during spell-executions meant something.

"You talk to it."

Leon snapped his head up again - annoyed, perhaps because Orpheus hadn't left yet - and frowned, purple eyes sending waves of irritation and weak anger. "And what is the problem with doing so?"

"Sane people don't talk to inanimate items." Cold, but he had to get to the point. "Unless they're insane."

"Are you labeling me as mentally disabled?" the sixteen year old hissed. Devil Personae were suddenly whispering to him, their words a muddle of sounds in his mind. But he could take a guess to what they meant - annoying Leon further, just like how Rutee often would. Eventually, he learnt never to follow her. She spelt only a few things - money-begging, and trouble. Mostly trouble.

"Not at all," Orpheus said nonchalantly, head tilting slightly to the side with the weakest of smiles. "Simply questioning your reason to talk to your sword."

"Hmph. I simply do then."

"Honest?"

"Yes. I don't lie."

The white-haired male raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise remained quiet.

Leon simply looked back to his sword, intent in ignoring his companion's presence. The musician slowly fixed his posture after noticing that the swordsman wouldn't continue talking _- So much for a proper conversation..._ - but continued to stand there, as if rooted to the very ground he stood on. Something told him- no,_ urged_ him to keep a steady flow of chatter. Perhaps he would learn something new. Something that could make him understand the sixteen year old better.

Looking through the number of conversation starters - most of them likely to end there itself - and picked one mostly likely to get a response, regardless of being mere bewilderment or something else, and something he had been curious as of late, "What's its name?"

The black-haired youth stopped abruptly, taking a full minute to actually register the question before uttering a simple, "..._What?_"

Yes, simple. Very to the point too.

"The sword," Orpheus casually jerked a finger to the currently shining blade. He could see his reflection in it, from all the polishing Leon was doing to it. "You talk to it, so you must have a name for it."

"And who said so?"

"Common sense?"

"You can simply refer to it as only 'it'."

Orpheus took a little longer to reply to that, searching through his memories for a counter to the prodigy's words. And honestly... such words hurt. Personae had no gender, like anything that wasn't human or living. They were called 'it's or 'they's, not a 'him' or a 'her'. There were only a select few who did, and they were persona users that cared for their 'guardians' and felt their presence constantly. Persona users who could willingly call for them instead of forcing them out.

And that was a power only given to few, only countable in a single hand, perhaps. Orpheus knew that. Personae always knew their own secrets, acting like the reflections of a single mind.

The many reflections of a cracked mirror.

"Say..." he suddenly let out the word, mind wandering far from the actual conversation. "What do you think of your reflection?"

Leon held a confused expression - layered delicately with annoyance, like all others. Sometimes, the Persona-turned-human wondered if there was ever a moment where the swordsman held anything but irritation or anger in his expression - but stayed quiet for several, awkwardly long moments before responding, "It's just a reflection, a mirror image of yourself. It's not like it is another person."

"...Yes." How could he be so forgetful? "Just a reflection."

_Just... a reflection._

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><p>Later that night, Orpheus found himself unable to sleep. His weary red eyes stared up the blue-tinted ceilings, blinking blankly at it without much of a sound. It was quiet in his room - and painstakingly so. Strange - with only the muffled snores and occasional mumbles from his Yaoon companion acting as one of the many pieces of silence-piercing shards. Every time the musician tried to close his eyes to dreamland, all he saw was a flash into the afternoon and the haunting words he received.<p>

_"It's not like it is another person."_

And yet it was. To him, it was. He was the living, breathing proof of such.

Unable to tolerate this futile drive of sleeplessness, the scarlet-eyed male forced himself up from the comforts of his bed - even if it wouldn't let him sleep, it was still quite comfortable to just lie there itself - and looked to the large, whitish-ivory lyre by the window, hidden weakly by a curtain of shadows. Careful to not wake Mormo, he got off and quietly picked up the instrument, craning his head to the window. Good. It was big enough to go through completely.

He would certainly need the distraction in mind.

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><p>Leon had slowly awakened to a melodious song.<p>

Groaning softly, he pushed himself up from the silk sheets and tossed a sleep-effected orb to the open window. A quiet voice was singing, letting itself into his room without doubt as the sounds of an instrument were being played in tune. He simply grumbled. _Who wakes up in the middle of the night and sings?_

...

...Well, there was Johnny. But never mind that stupid bard. He wasn't here.

Sighing, he got off his lavish bed and dragged a chair - luckily, it didn't scrape too loudly against the marble floors - to the window, seating himself by an opening of fresh air and next to his sword, which he picked up at once. Unhearable to the normal ear, there were quiet snores from it - the yellow-tinted core actually, but no one could be too sure - as well as the occasional mutter that was very close to the sleep-driven mumbles one would speak when half asleep. Currently, the swordsman could only make out something about... music?

He placed his weapon back in its spot carefully, making sure to not wake the sentient item. He looked out the whitened arch window, letting rays of silver fall over his face as he silently searched for the source of the voice, which he obviously wouldn't find with his eyes (shadows' play, after all). Eventually, he closed the window and hurryingly left his room - with his cape, of course. He disliked the cold, ever since a long ago trip to Gavada's Frosthollow... - with the sharp click of a closing door.

_Upstairs. The roof. _

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><p>"Leon?" Orpheus frowned, watching as the sixteen year old made his way over to him. He had expected anyone except him - and maybe Stahn. That blond could sleep forever if he wanted to - to come here, if they ever heard his singing that is, so it was a surprise to find the black-haired youth up here, apparently wanting to discover the source of the music. Anyone would be curious, truthfully, but Leon never seemed like the sort who would actually try to learn the 'why' of things. Just the 'what', and possibly 'how', and that was all he needed.<p>

"Hmph, so you were the one who was making all that noise," the Magic Swordsman stated, folding his arms. The scarlet-eyed man only shrugged, a pale finger slowly wrapping around one of the metallic strings. "I'm the only one in the Guild who has an instrument on hand. It's quite a logical thought if I were the one playing it."

The swordsman sat a few steps away from him - even more surprising - and gave an irritation-layered, yet light glare. "Perhaps you could have been playing it when some of us are not asleep?"

"I wouldn't, if I myself _were_ asleep," Orpheus replied, plucking the string. It made a brief, sharp-cutting sound.

"Why can't you?" Leon asked. Even if the Persona-turned-human wasn't looking at him, he knew he was already frowning. The musician strummed a few more strings, all with a silent air of unresponsiveness before he slowly - and painstakingly so, on the other's side - craned his head towards the sixteen year old.

"...What do you think of reflections? Are they simply mirror images of you, or something even less?" he asked quietly, though there was almost a feeling of anger and frustration to the words. "Are they nothing to you?"

The swordsman was quiet, his eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at the musician, trying to grasp the supposed meaning behind his words. Normally, he would have just replied that reflections were reflections - which they were - yet there was some obvious value in them that this white-haired youth considered an important treasure that shouldn't be carelessly handled. But what? There wasn't much to work with, after all. All he had was that one question he had asked, and... that, and...

He noticed, with a deep pang of realisation, that he didn't actually know a thing about him.

"Reflections," Orpheus suddenly spoke up, catching the Magic Swordsman's attention he turned back to the night-covered view of Doplund. "Are you. Are another side of yourself. They are the locked potentials within ourselves, simply awaiting the moment where you overcome the trials of life's many burdens and realise who we truly are and what we can do. They are us, yet not. They are simply another face that is exactly same, yet hold the future you, filled with hopes and dreams, with emotion and thought. They are... people. The true self of man's soul. Yourself."

He plucked several strings at once. It resulted in a horrible clash of sounds, made of deeps and highs that mimicked sounds like the crashing of plates or the banging of hands on a door violently. It was simply a loud chaos to the sixteen year old's ears. Yet the scarlet-eyed youth was unfazed by the terrible playing, a grim smile barely visible on his face.

"They're not 'it's._ I_ am not an 'it'."

Leon flinched, moving back slightly on hearing the harshly-said words. He furiously tried to process the words - the meaning - yet his head felt oddly blank. Somewhere, oh-so distantly into his mind, he felt puzzle pieces fit together, things that he didn't understand about the quiet male suddenly making actual sense.

But the cost for understanding was his absolute silence.

Orpheus pulled a string, breaking the silence effectively with the high-pitched sound produced. It sounded... like a piano key - soft, gentle, quiet. A peaceful beginning to a powerful melody - for some reason. "...Sorry. I suppose I lingered too much on your words from this afternoon."

He blinked - like fingers were snapped right before his eyes - and hastily fumbled for a response. "N-No. It was... mine. I didn't know." _I didn't know a thing about you. At all._

To his surprise, the white-haired male laughed a bit. "Not many people know about us anyway. Not here, at least..." His smile was still grim, yet pained, filled with a past nostalgia that hurt when recalling. Leon could identify that easily. He himself had such moments where he remembered - fondly, sadly, unwillingly. It depended on what he remembered - his childhood memories, when his home was still intact and safe from the being everyone called the 'Devourer'.

It was a fitting name, not just because it drained the land's Mana. It took homes, lives, _people_ from others, from the survivors that were cursed enough to be a victim. Sometimes, he wondered how they managed to continue smiling, even when they lost everything dear to them.

Orpheus suddenly stood up, holding one of the ivory-white sides of his lyre. The pain was gone from his face, replaced with a content calmness that he often held. "It's getting late. We should head back and rest, if we are to be at our best in the morning. Maybe you could tell me about your talking sword too, while we're on a Quest maybe."

"If you want to be distracted and attacked by a monster without noticing it, then yes, I will speak of Chaltier," Leon dryly responded. The musician let a small grin seep into his calm expression, "Well, it _is_ technically 'tomorrow' now, and you've already leaked out your sword's name, whether you meant it or not. I don't see a flying monster anywhere either."

"...You seem experienced in twisting people's words," Leon noted flatly as he got up. The white-haired male simply shrugged, his ruby eyes suddenly wandering to a butterfly fluttering at the roof entrance. An echo followed, only hearable in Orpheus' ears.

_"...I am thou, and thou art I..."_

_"...I shalt grant thou with thy unwavering conviction of thy Tower Arcana..."_

_"...Thine belief of the Towering Symbol shalt be thy strength to prevail all before thou..."_

And the butterfly burst into sparks of vivid blue.

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><p>Gaaaaaah~ I just realised it's short~! Hopefully, it's good enough.<p>

...

...Yup, I sense a terrible feeling of OOC-ness in this. D: But despite that, please review and tell me your thoughts on it! No flames though, because flames don't do anything but... flame... stuff.

~Shiroi


End file.
